Diamonds
by Incisions For Diamonds
Summary: "I had a dream about you once. We were in this room, and I laid upon you with a scalpel; I made an incision on your eye—those diamonds eyes. With the tweezers in my hand, and there it was—I pulled a diamond out. It was was long, thin, and sharp, but what really interesting about it all is that it was as clear as what you think of me—nothing." Khan/OC
1. Chapter 1: Admiral and Admirable

"I had a dream about you once. We were in this room, in its usual barrenness of white. I laid upon you with a scalpel; I made an incision on your eye—those diamonds. With a pair of tweezers in my hands and there it was—I pulled a diamond out of your eye. It was was long, thin, and sharp, but what really interesting about it all is that it was as clear as what you think of me—nothing." Khan/OC.

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**CHAPTER 1:** Admiral and admirable

No one really knew when I had come into the picture. My christening into Section 31 had passed, and no one noticed. I was suddenly there, melted into my work right away without looking up. They might have felt an added feminine presence and a head of inky black hair. Sly as I might think I was for making it happen, I cared little on what I was for other people. I was in and out, quick to my work, efficient to my work, sensitive to my work—is how my supervisor described me on my first official yearly report. Quiet and articulate—but spoke only when necessary. The praise was overwhelming, but it was not so against the growing attachment he had bestowed upon me. The last comment escaped his lips before his abrupt disappearance was during a meeting with the eager Admiral Marcus, who looked like his blue eyes sparkled when I was described as a perfect 'accessory to his ambitions'. I was approached by the Admiral from the territory of his office the next day, his blue eyes twinkling, more obvious than ever:

"You are never to leave my side, lieutenant."

To latch the term ambitious to the Admiral falls too short for his character. Commanding as he is, he never failed to let others see his… interests. It was small at first— increased defenses with the grid shields and energy combusting fuel felt like a feather touch to the Federation— soft, gentle, and pleasing. As time grew, he slowly delved into an advocate of space exploration, all the while hiding his growing content with offensive technology. He was ever so quick to praise the engineers who prostrated the increased saturation of phasers, and shower his attention to any reported Klingon activity. As demanding the Admiral was, his feet were always light, dancing slowly with his goals, taking the hands of those interested, kissing their knuckles, romanticizing them into a waltz of his visions. I, of course prepared the music of his dances, the script for his ethos, the attire for his battles. Firm and forward the Admiral may be to others, he was always taking two more seconds with me, his tone a fraction softer.

His affections were gazing towards my direction during the most subtle moments. His failure to never greet was just a high as his secret adamant way to look directly into my eyes as he spoke. I could feel those eyes with me still, silently upon me whenever I tinkered my PADD with information. The admiral held a distance towards me, as it was always ten centimeters less than any of his commanders, let alone his only daughter, Carol. When struck by grievances of his work and people, his idea of peace in the office apparently included me in it. Though, he never did say whatever eluded him-it seemed evident that I should just be there. I adjusted to this notion a little after the eighth month of working under him.

He closed his eyes slowly and drew his breath into a long sigh "Anna."

"Sir, Commander Owens is waiting in the lobby, minutes early. Shall I go fetch—"

"Sit. I need to see you." He waved his hand towards the stark white chair across from his dark wood desk. I said nothing as I complied, my hands on my lap, posture near perfect, eyes focused on him. I contrasted against his slightly slumped position, but his eyes unwavering towards mine. After a few longer seconds, I inquired "Sir."

The admiral slowly lifted the left of his lips into a pleased smirk. My eyes turned to his lips for his sudden movement, and his grin turned a bit wider as he noticed. After that day, I never saw the gold band that adorned his left hand, nor did I ever see him dance towards his interests ever again.

After finding the Botany Bay, Admiral Marcus stopped dancing. He marched instead. When he received news of the cargo it held, I had never seen him killed with silence. He sat in his office for two days straight, staring at the models of the revolutionary star ships; focused. I noticed this immense shift and stayed at my desk dutifully, canceling all of his previous engagements and meetings without notice. The admiral was left untouched, by my command. This did not go unnoticed and suddenly I was to accompany him to look at the spoils of his discovery as his way of gratitude. As my eyes fell to the precious cargo, I knew that something would change.

The sparkle in the Admiral's eyes was no more. And I am sure that John Harrison was responsible.


	2. Chapter 2: Dew

**Hey guys. Changing the perspective. I'll edit chapter 1 when I can. This is mildly graphic. Cheers!**

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**CHAPTER 2: **Dew

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The room was blazingly, stark white. Even more so with the bright, warm lights that embraced it. Well, mostly, it embraced him.  
He was stone cold, but somehow the lights seemed to indulge an illusion of color and blood to his face. Almost. The wetness that slivered all over his body from the residue of his casing only reflected the stillness that was him. However, the reflection did not adhere peace to his face. The elegant brows bestowed in his features were very slightly—holding a faint expression of... distaste.

An expression fitting, for a dead person. After all, Khan Noonien Singh was dead.

Anne placed the PADD gently on the last mobile table to the left. the contact between the glass of the PADD and the metal composite of the table was the only thing that was louder than hearing her own heartbeat. Silence finally consumed the room bodies after a fifteen hour exertion of trying to bring this slab of man to life. The federation's best doctors scurrying, pacing, and yelling to one another as they struggled to cope themselves from the... newness of this all. The man was new, the situation was new, the circumstances of his casing was new, and most importantly, the man's biological composition was shockingly new. Staggeringly so, to the point where Admiral Marcus and Anne agreed that they looked like doctors just graduated from the academy; like we were witnessing their first surgery. After the thirteenth hour, the doctors declared him dead. Marcus said nothing but as he rose from his seat, Anne could feel his rage as he struggled to maintain his composure. All he could manage was "Thanks for trying. Let's get out of here." The doctors followed suit, and she was asked to remain in the room and wait for the clean up crew and deliver the instructions for the disposal of the body.

Anne closed her eyes and held her hand to her forehead, spreading my fingers along in attempt to rid of the headache that invaded around the fourteenth hour. The crew was late-dawn should be in the horizon soon. Her eyes searched for a blanket from the cupboards- the least she could do was cover him, as it was a decent gesture for the dead. Besides, she was getting sick of the sympathy that startled to settle within her. Remembering from her sanitation class from the academy, she opened the blanket from the foot of the bed, slowly unfolding it towards the head, instead of opening it by exploding it into the air and let potentially dangerous microorganisms get her sick. Especially from this man.

She was nearing his head, and decided indulge in his face one more time. The slickness that is the residue left a very thin film on his perfect pale complexion. His lips full and slightly parted, and his high cheekbones graced his already excruciatingly handsome face. With the combination of his distaste expression and the sharp authority of his cheekbones, it almost looked as if he was... regally aggressive.  
Anne wondered if his eyes would hold her hypothesis. Her grey one's focused in to the long, onyx black eyelashes and sighed. She would never know. She had more moral capabilities than to stick her fingers to the deadman's lids just so she could satisfy her curiosity. She wouldn't do that.

A very tiny, sudden reflection of light caught her eyes startled her. She searched for the source-and focused on his right eye... Coated in the corners of his lashes was a small... dew? Was it the residue? No, it definitely had less viscosity. Then it dawned her:

A tear?

At that very moment of her realization, Anne's thoughts crumbled as she was caught by what she thought was an abyss. She felt the smallest of electrifying jolts as she was staring into eyes that weren't her own.  
The clear, lightest blue of his eyes, so transparent that she thought she could dive in the crevices of the texture of his irises- colored in the most yellow of sunflowers, the vastness green of the ocean, and the blue of the highest of skies-all clashing against each other in a fight of dominance, weaponed by the extremely sharp edges that defined them. She felt her head spin in a near trance, as she noticed the slightest detail— slivers of translucent silver linings ever so slightly embraced the sharp colored contenders, light and adorned, almost soft like—

"Year?" A hoarse, but velvety low baritone of a voice destroyed the silence, as well as her hypnotic state. She jumped away from him, slightly startled. She did not speak, but her mouth was slightly gaped from the shock of a deadman talking.

He didn't move or blink as he asked again: "Year?" Anne wasn't even sure if he was asking a question. It sounded as if it was a statement, but logic dictated the former, since repeated himself. Year? Who asks for year? Is he talking about the star date?

Slowly, not take her eyes off of him, she answered "… 2257.04— I mean, January 4th, 2257". Anne slowly took a step back, hoping to inch her way back to the mobile table, towards the PADD and her communicator. Her eyes never away from his lying form, she moved cautiously, though the raging beating heart and her elevated breathing rang her ears in nervousness and fear. He didn't move, but his eyes slowly angled to face her. He spoke slowly,

"I can hear your heart beating." She could hear nothing but his words as confusion washed over her face. She felt as if in that moment, her heart stopped beating and she stopped breathing—as if in that very second, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of her living. What was that about?

Not wanting to ponder over an answer, Anne turned quickly for her communicator, but her right hand suddenly was caught in a trap of pale, cold skin that was his arm, and yelped loudly from the sudden force. She struggled for her arm to be free, but a sudden move to her hip twisted her position, and that is the position to face him. She felt a thunderous shiver and blood leaving her olive face.

Khan Noonein Singh faced her, a towering figure almost twice her size, an ominous look bestowed on his face, as the headlights embracing his was-dead figure now seemed to scurry away from his dark, glorious, presence. He made no sign of struggle as he held her—effortlessly as it was, his gestures were tinged with elegance from his menacing gaze.

"Where am I?" His voice was clearer now, rich and low, with a slight compass of an english accent. Anne could very much say she appreciated his vocals, if her near-paralyzing fear didn't overcome it. With her will to fight, she needed to call someone, or she would probably die. Somehow, she was going to aim for the communicator with her left. Being careful not to reveal her plans with her eyes, she swallowed hard and stared directly into his eyes.

"I cannot delve on that information, Mr. Singh." She spoke firmly, her voice slightly trembled, as he challenged his eyes. Khan's eye's furrowed at the mention of his name, slightly gritting his even teeth.

"Do not be foolish, girl." He said seething with impatience "Where am I?"

"I cannot—"

"Where is my crew?" He moved closer to her, his left hand gripping her hip with a stinging force.

"Mr. Signh—"

"Enough of th—" Anne quickly twisted her left arm and dove for her communicator, all the while falling to the floor. her hand flipped it it opened, as she felt a blowing kick at her back. She gasped at the pain, a sensation driving through her nerves. She resulted in cradling herself before she spoke, tears swelling her steely grey eyes.

"Marcus! He's awake! Please, he's awake—_Ahhhhhhhhhhh!_" Anne screamed in pure agony as Khan placed his foot over her hand, and twisted it while kicking it downward. _Crack_. Her eyes shocked at her dislocated hand and even more so destroyed communicator. The pain registered immediately, her eyes stinging with tears. She cried even louder when Khan grabbed her heavily injured hand as he pulled her upwards from the floor. Her screams almost made herself deaf. She could feel her bones breaking and ligaments tearing apart as her hand held her body weight. Tears consumed her eyes, as his hand steadied her head, looking straight at her.

"You have such _delicious_ screams." He spoke with cold genuinity, towards her ear, eyes focused on hers. "It would be a waste to kill you."

All Anne could do was muffle a cry. No matter how much she was in pain, she couldn't move her eyes away from his piercing gaze. She could tell that he was relishing her fear, as it fueled his malice. It made her sick.

Their stares were cut short when she heard multiple footsteps from the door. A squad of Starfleet guards and Marcus holding phasers towards their direction. The admiral walked closer to the pair with concern and excitement riddled in his eyes.

"Welcome back." He started. Khan didn't move, but he eyed the Admiral. "And here we thought you were dead. You scared us, son".

"I don't care for your introductions. Where is my crew?" He bobbed his right hand where he held Anne, and she winced in pain.

"Don't worry, they're alive and safe. I can't tell you now, for security reasons. I'm sure you can understand."

Khan narrowed his eyes slightly, before turning to Anne. He lifted his left hand, and roughly caressed the bruises on her cheek. Her tears overwhelmed her, by her fear.

"I will kill her—"

"_STUN HIM!_" in an instant, multiple red lasers flew out at once, directly towards Khan, and he yelped in at the numbing sensation and let go of Anne. She fell and met the floor roughly, her her injured hand kissing the floor first. The intense pain raged through her nerves—the pain registered to her hot and bright, before her eyes closed, her consciousness dead.

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**Okay, more graphic than I had expected. Poor Anne. Please tell me what you think :). I'll try to have another by thursday so stay tuned!**


	3. Chapter 3: To go by

**Hello. This chapter is about Anne's reflection and Marcus.**

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**CHAPTER 3:** To go by

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Anne had never been graced with the luxury of time. She had aways been busy, personally for herself but lately more for the Admiral Marcus. Not that she minded, she liked to busy with herself, anything to keep her from the dawning that she had time... time to do nothing. Early in the years of her foggy adolescence her subconscious concluded that she would dislike it, and dislike it she did. Her negative feelings dissipated a bit as her focus drove to the window, admiring the high level, open scenery of the urban life she had become accustomed. Large, elegant buildings embraced by the sharp architecture of the century was certainly no less beautiful. Even more so that the light of dawn creeping into the horizon, the city reflecting the sun's light saturated by the orange hue, slowly winning against the gradient of the dark skies. It was not so bad. Beauty can sometimes be a valiant and worthy distraction.

However it can only last so long. Her bum stuck in an inferno she would call the hospital. It had been two days since she was admitted, two days from the incident she'd not even like to mention. Two days are really nothing compared to the rest of her time, where she will forever remember how it felt to have her ligaments slowly rip apart from her own weight and the diamond-eyed man who made it happen. Reflecting on what she thought of the situation would however, take more than two days. Along with the hospital, she was to report to a psychologist for at least two months after her discharge date. Which should be tomorrow. Anne furrowed her eyebrows about-she was not looking forward to them. She made a quick mental note to ask Marcus about it, along with her substantial list of questions about the person who was responsible for her assault.

As for her short meeting with Khan Nooneigh Singh, it was very difficult for Anne to remember step to step of what happened after her hand had been mercilessly violated. The best she could describe of the situation after was that besides the hot searing pain, her hearing secluded to his voice, and tears-induced blurry vision over his face, especially his eyes. Of course when asked she omitted these descriptions, and insisted that she was in so much pain that she could hardly remember until to the point where she had been ungraciously dropped to the floor. For reasons unknown to her, she had decided that it would be safer to not tell rather than have it recorded on the incident report. In addition, Marcus had wished to keep it all under wraps, so she might have placed her justification of keeping it short and not flooded with unnecessary comments such as his very low, baritone voice and his lovely, diamond eyes. Anne frowned. Out of all the happenings why on earth had she only remembered those two things? Is she having a memory relapse? No. It's hardly the fault of senility when she had just turned a ripe age of twenty-seven. She shook her head and released a small sigh as her head collided with the white of her pillows. She could save her sanity if she stopped thinking about it.

She picked up a low hissing noise from her right, and came to face the Admiral as looked up. He had his posh greys on, hair perfectly in place, but Anne could see that his clear dark circles under his blue eyes, eyes that pinned to hers. He said nothing as he seated himself to a chair across from her bed. Silence followed suit until he opened his mouth to a beginning but was disrupted as he suddenly turned to fumbled on his right pocket, perturbing his communicator to silent. And then he begun again. Anne had beat him to it when realization hit.

"The Betazed Conference sir? You're going to be late." She started worriedly. The Admiral held a look of surprise, and then a radiated a sense of pride as he smirked.

"Yes, Lieutenant. How did you remember? You know that your PADD suffered a terrible fate."

"While that is true sir, but I find it easier to remember what your happenings are ahead of time, as it makes it easier to shift future complications."

"Impressive. But as the circumstances that you're surrounded by, you are to stay still until tomorrow." He gestured to her immobile cast, a look of guilt whisked into his structured features. Silence befell them again. This was a chance for her to ask about Khan. She looked up to him again, eyes locked and determined.

"We are only human, sir." She spoke slowly, unwavering her steel eyes, eager for his response about the not-so-human. The Admiral picked up on the curious notion, and responded with a heavy sigh and tousled his hair.

"Anne, I thought we had an agreement that we wouldn't press charges. What we did after all, was in no was legally right in a sense."

"But what will happen to him, sir?" Her voice crackled. The Admiral stood from his seat and walked over her, an overwhelming face of concern and a hint of anger coursing his face. Anne looked down to her hands, and then slightly to the close body of the Admiral's. He was seven inches away from her body-the closest's he's ever been. Anne closed her eyes slowly and inhaled.

"He is being disciplined as we speak. He killed four more people on the way to his ward. He hasn't said a word, however. We need more information about him, but it could take a while. All I can say is that is that he is...brilliant. He could be useful." A flicker of dance in the admiral's eyes came and left. "You, on the other hand, focus on resting. I won't be expecting you in the office 'til the next month. Sherry will take your place. I will contact you." He motioned quickly to the doors. "I'll be going now-Oh, and your new PADD will be delivered to your apartment. Among a few other... amenities I've ordered for you." He smiled slightly. Anne felt an unfamiliar warmth invading her face.

"Thank you, sir."

"Keep it together, Lieutenant. See you in the office." With that, the hiss of the door concluded his visit. Anne could only exhale.

"Computer, open the windows." She ordered with a soft whisper. She needed air... a lot of fresh air. And a drink, but she would save it for when she arrived home. For now, she was engrossed into airing out the sexual tension the man left by her bedside.

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**Hey guys, sorry for the late update. I had to prepare for my finals. But now I'm free! Khan will appear next chapter again.**


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